Harry Potter and the Present from the Future
by emmadesu
Summary: An eleven year-old Harry Potter wakes up on September first, 1991 with complete knowledge of the next seven years. Chapter four up! Book One.
1. The Eye of Fate (Year One)

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, J.K ROWLING DOES. OBVIOUSLY.**

The first part is copied directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Any kind of feedback, positive _**and** _negative, is highly appreciated! This is my first fanfic, so criticism is very welcome! Also, if you have any ideas for how the story should go, just say something. Thanks! Enjoy!

* * *

On the last day of August, Harry thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er – Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show that he was listening.

"Er – I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to – to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be alright if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizard's school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

That night, Harry checked off the last box on the piece of paper he had hung on the wall counting the days until September the first. His excitement was practically radiating off of him; and it took all the self control he could muster not to jump up and down yelling. He thought that his aunt and uncle wouldn't like the noise. _I doubt Hedwig would approve either, _he thought.

He packed and re-packed his trunk at least seven times, just to make sure he had absolutely everything. He finally got into bed and thought about how he was leaving the Dursleys for an entire school year. He slowly drifted to sleep with a smile on his face. Soon a dream would wipe the smile off.

And what a dream it would be.

* * *

Harry woke up with a yell. Hedwig screeched. His head hurt. His head was split open... He couldn't breathe... There wasn't enough air in the room... He was shaking all over...

As he vomited over his blanket, he realized that he was in his room, on his bed. With a quick glance at the clock, he saw that it was 4:53 AM.

Feeling like he was going to throw up again, he exited his room and dashed down the hall toward the bathroom. He made it to the toilet just in time for his stomach to lurch. He heard his uncle growl and saw the hall lights turn on.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "It's FIVE IN THE MORNING! What are you –" the door to the bathroom slammed open. Vernon took one look at Harry and had the decency to stop yelling and paused in the doorway. Harry took the moment to sick up in the toilet again.

"What are you doing?" growled Uncle Vernon. He wasn't yelling anymore, though he could hear his voice shake with annoyance.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" said Harry.

Vernon muttered something about "ungrateful, sarcastic and nasty children" before saying, "Ah. I see. Scared about going to that school of yours? Finally coming to your senses and realizing the truth?"

"No. I have a bad headache."

"Well, why were you yelling?"

"Because I have a bad headache."

"Why you little –!"

"Why didn't you go get some medicine from the cabinet then? There's no need to wake the whole neighborhood!" screeched Aunt Petunia. She was standing near the doorway to the bathroom, slightly behind Vernon. Dudley was behind her, hands over his bottom, attempting to hide behind his mother, but failing miserably due to the fact that he was three times as wide as her.

"I didn't have time! I'm fine now!" said Harry, starting to raise his voice. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

"Fine! But if you aren't fine in the morning then we aren't taking you to the station. Don't want you making a mess in our new car... No..." snarled Uncle Vernon. He grunted and left.

"Oh, and clean up after yourself," said Petunia, nose crinkled at the smell. She left with Dudley.

Harry just sat there on the bathroom floor, leaning on the toilet for a few minutes. He flushed it and got up to rinse out his mouth. When he reached the bathroom sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror, he flinched.

He knew he felt horribly sick, but he wasn't expecting to _look_ so bad. His lips and face looked almost grey, his eyes bloodshot, and cold sweat was dripping from his forehead. And were those _dried tears_ on his cheeks?

He then found the source of the headache. The scar on his forehead was bright red and slightly inflamed, especially standing out on his pale skin. _What could have caused...?_

And then he remembered. He remembered the dream he woke up from. The dream with _everything. _

He didn't even make it to the toilet this time, vomit came out of his mouth and nose and straight into the sink.

Harry didn't sleep the rest of the night. He cleaned up the mess he made in the bathroom and in his bed and went to lay back down, but found that he couldn't lay still. He couldn't calm down. He paced all around his room, thinking about what he saw. And as the minutes wore on, more memories came flooding toward him. But they couldn't be memories, could they? No, they can't be memories if they hadn't happened yet. If they weren't his.

But they _were _his. But he didn't know anyone in them, except for Hagrid, of course. Everything was so vivid, his brain couldn't have made it all up. He couldn't have made it all up... His brain couldn't have made up seven years of life...

He must have seen into the future! But that couldn't be right either, because if it was really the future, he would do anything to stop those horrible things from happening, therefore changing it and making it not the real future...

He must have been thinking for a long time, because his Uncle shouted for him to come downstairs so they could leave. When Harry showed up at the bottom of the stairs Uncle Vernon grunted as a way of saying that he saw him.

They got in the car (it took a lot of coaxing on Petunia's part to get Dudley to sit next to Harry) and started to drive toward London. Dudley was shaking the entire time and squealed every time Harry so much as moved his foot, but Harry wasn't feeling any better than Dudley at this point.

Harry's head was, although better than it was at 5 AM, still pounding. It felt like 7 years worth of life was violently shoved into his head. And those seven years were not normal seven years. No they were not...

He watched as he met new friends, saved his godfather. He watched himself witness Voldemort's return and as he received ridicule and hate from the Ministry of Magic. He watched Dumbledore fall from the tower, watched himself hunt for horcruxes, walk to his death, meet Dumbledore in the afterlife and then come back to kill Voldemort...

He felt like he was going to vomit again. Luckily, he was able to hold it in.

He didn't know what to do... He didn't even know if it was real. Was he going insane? If it was real, he couldn't deal with it by himself. _No way_ could he handle that. He could barely handle thinking about the dream, and it hadn't even really happened. No, he would have to go to Dumbledore. Dumbledore could keep the secret... Dumbledore would surely know what to do, if Dumbledore was anything like he was in the "memories". But he didn't even know the man yet! How could he have this conversation if he hadn't even met the man? What would Dumbledore think of an eleven year old who claimed to know him for seven years but hadn't even met him yet?

The problem was that he didn't know any of the people in the dream, he hadn't met any of them, but he had so many memories of them, it's like he had known them forever. It was going to be extremely difficult not to let anything slip.

He supposed that the only thing he could do was just wait until he arrived at the station. If everything was the same as he remembers it in the dream, then he would just have to play along with it until he gets to Hogwarts and can find Dumbledore. _Blimey,_ he thought, _I better not mess anything up..._


	2. Journey to Hogwarts

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, J.K. ROWLING DOES. **

Sorry, this chapter is very similar to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, a lot of it is directly copied, and it's not very long, I apologize for that. The next chapter will be a lot more original, I promise! Or else, what's the fun in writing?

Also, if you have the time, _please please __**please **_review! I'm completely new to writing fanfiction, and any critiques, suggestions or ideas for the story are very welcome and extremely appreciated! Thank you for reading!

* * *

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry would have thought that this was strangely kind, if he hadn't known what was coming next. Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are. Platform nine– platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word.

_This is exactly what happened in the dream, _thought Harry._ Now I know that the dream _was _real. No, no, no... Okay, calm down... You just have to wait for–_

"Packed with Muggles, of course–"

He swung around. That must be Mrs. Weasely! _No, stop, you don't know them yet. Just act normal._ _Just act normal and go meet your new best friend for the next seven years. Oh no, oh no, no no no... This is way too much pressure..._

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them, looking a nervous wreck. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said Mrs. Weasley.

"Nine and three– quarters!" piped a small girl. _Ginny!_

"Mum, can't I go..."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right Percy, you go first."

Harry watched as Percy marched toward the platforms nine and ten and vanish, and as Fred and George went next. Harry couldn't help but smirk when Fred pretended to be George. _Huh, just like they were in the dream, _he thought.

Harry then remembered that it was about now that he went up to Mrs. Weasley and asked her for instructions. He knew how to get across the barrier, of course– but he couldn't risk not meeting Ron, his supposed best friend.

He walked up to Mrs. Weasley, terrified out of his mind that he would somehow mess it all up.

"Um, excuse me," said Harry.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. Harry's hand started shaking at the sight of Ron. _So this is my best friend. I'm meeting my very best friend for the first time. Don't screw up Harry, don't screw up..._

"Yes," said Harry. "It's just that, um, the thing is..."

"Yes, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley, looking slightly concerned.

"I, I just don't know how to..."

"Get on the platform?" she said kindly. Harry nodded nervously.

"Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared that you'll crash into it, that's very important. If you're nervous," she added, noticing Harry's obvious shaking, "you'd best do it at a bit of a run. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er, okay. Thank you," said Harry, giving her a weak smile.

Harry got through the barrier all right (it sure helped that he'd done it several times before in the dream) and found the empty cart that he had sat in before. He met Fred and George on the train– they helped him get his trunk into the compartment. They couldn't wait to tell their mother that they met Harry Potter.

"Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly so they wouldn't see him listening to them.

"You know that black–haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

_"Harry Potter!"_

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. He looked scared enough as it is. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there, like a bolt of lightning."

"Poor _dear_– no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Mrs. Weasley suddenly became stern.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day of school. He already seemed so nervous. _Sick,_ almost..."

"All right, keep your hair on."

They all got back on the train when the whistle sounded, and Ron asked to sit in the compartment with Harry. Harry played his part of innocent and completely unknowledgeable pretty well; and it was interesting hearing Ron talk for the first time in real life. The only problem was when Ron showed Harry his pet rat.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff– I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Harry stared at the rat, feeling absolute disgust. _That was the man who betrayed them. My godfather is in Azkaban right now because of that useless son of a–_

"You alright, Harry?"

Harry snapped out of it and realized his face was screwed up.

"Erm, yeah. Sorry."

"Not a rat person?"

"Er, no, rats are fine. I um... there really isn't anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl, I mean, I'd never had any money in my life until a month ago. My aunt makes me wear all my cousin's old clothes, which would be okay except that he is five times bigger than me. They never even gave me proper birthday presents, either."

This seemed to cheer Ron up.

The rest of the ride went by exactly as planned. Hermione walked in and introduced herself, as did Malfoy. Harry was a bit more vicious with Malfoy, knowing about all the things he would do later on, but other than that he stuck to the original plan.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came and bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

They got across the lake alright, and Neville was reunited with his toad, Trevor, and they finally reached the great oak door. They met Professor McGonagall there, and she led them to the small, empty chamber off the hall.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

Harry wasn't quite as nervous for the Sorting as the other students were, having done this before (before?). He was more nervous about speaking to Dumbledore afterwards. It was nice seeing that he wasn't the only one freaking out, though– he blended in nicely now. And the ghosts that floated in the chamber became a nice distraction for him.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

They got in a single file line, and walked through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. He heard Hermione showing off her knowledge about it's bewitched ceiling.

"I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History!" _she whispered.

The Sorting Hat sang its song, and the Sorting began.

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter,_ did she say?"

_"The _Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult."

_GRYFFINDOR. Just put me in Gryffindor..._

"I see you've already made up your mind, eh? Are you sure? I see you have a secret, a very big secret..."

_Come on… Gryffindor, please..._

"Slytherin would help you with the task ahead, I assure you. Yes, Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that– no? If you insist, then GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He let out a sigh of relief and took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He heard the twins chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

The Sorting carried on, Ron was sorted into Gryffindor (_T__hank goodness,_ thought Harry), and it ended after "Zabini, Blaise" was sorted into Slytherin.

As they ate dinner, the first years had a conversation about their families. Neville had some interesting stories about his Great Uncle Algie.

Toward the end of dessert, Harry decided that if he was going to go straight to Dumbledore to talk to him, he would need to be able to get into the Gryffindor Common Room afterwards, but he couldn't quite remember what the password was.

"Um, Percy? What's the password to the Gryffindor common room?" Harry whispered.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, before he realized what Harry had just asked. "Wait... How do you know about the Gryffindor common room if you're new...?"

"Long story, but I was just curious... Thanks."

"Are you planning to do something?" asked Percy suspiciously.

"No, no, just curious, I promise."

This didn't seem to convince Percy, but he didn't say anything more on the matter.

The dessert disappeared, they sang the school song, and Dumbledore sent them off to bed. Harry left the Great Hall with the other Gryffindor first years, but snuck ahead and managed to escape. Harry walked as quickly as he could straight to Dumbledore's office.


	3. Dumbledore's Warning

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. J.K. ROWLING DOES. OBVIOUSLY.**

Sorry it's been over a month since the last update! Please review if you got the chance! Any criticisms are _very, **very**_ welcome. This is my first fanfic, so I want advice. also message me if you have any ideas for what you want to happen.

Here ya go!

* * *

As Harry walked toward Dumbledore's office, he couldn't stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong.

_Should I tell Dumbledore? I mean, according to the dream he cared about my well being, but he also kept so many things secret…_

_Oh, don't be stupid. No way would you be able to plan your life without his help. You have to tell someone, and Dumbledore is one of the smartest people you've met… Oh wait, you technically haven't met him yet, have you?_

_Great… Great… This is exactly what every eleven year-old wants… God, this is way to much pressure for someone to have… Yes, you have to tell someone. Just tell Dumbledore. Just tell Dumbledore. And if he messes things up, then you can take matters into your own hands._

Harry reached Dumbledore's office. He stood, waiting outside the stone gargoyle, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He'd never been so nervous before.

"Hello?" he said to the gargoyle. No response.

"Is Dumbledore in there?"

No response.

"Look I need to talk to Dumbledore!" he yelled. "Can't you let him know that I'm here or something?"

"But he already knows that you're here!" Harry heard a voice behind him say. He turned around to see the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore walking toward his office.

"Mr. Potter, why are you not with your classmates? I believe the prefects are touring the first years as I speak."

"Er, I don't really need a tour– I know my way around the castle pretty much by heart by now... I –" Harry continued, despite Dumbledore's look of disbelief, "I – that's actually part of what I need to talk to you about. It's really, really important."

Dumbledore stared at Harry with his bright blue eyes. "This cannot wait until morning?"

Harry shook his head vigorously. "No, I– I think that I should tell you as soon as possible…"

Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry. After a few moments, he said, "Alright. Let's get into my office then…"

Dumbledore said the password ("Licorice Wand") and the gargoyle leapt aside. They walked through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of the spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind them, taking them up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker. Dumbledore opened the door and they stepped into his office. It was just as magnificent as Harry remembered in the dream.

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and gestured Harry to sit opposite of him.

"Now, there is something you wish to tell me?"

Harry swallowed. How could he possibly explain something as important as this?

"I don't know where to start, sir…"

"The beginning is usually a good place."

Harry just sat there, trying to find his words. After a few moments, he spoke.

"Er, right. Well, um, I had a dream. Last night."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "Did you?" was all he said.

"Yes. But it wasn't normal though…"

"In what way was it not normal?"

"Well, um… I think, no, I _know…_ the dream, I mean… I think it showed me the future."

Harry realized just how stupid he probably sounded.

"Can you explain further, Harry?" said Dumbledore, keeping a straight face.

"It showed me… It showed me the next seven years. I just, I… I thought it might not have been real at first, but then when I boarded the Hogwarts Express today everything went how I remembered it from the dream and I... I got really worried… And there's a lot of things that need to be fixed… Now… I just didn't think that I would be able to handle this information on my own… but in the dream, you were the one who knew everything… I mean, about Voldemort's life and the prophecy and the horcruxes and the whole plan and everything..."

Dumbledore had an arrested look on his face.

"You know about the prophecy? The dream showed you that?"

"Yes, the one that Trelawney made. The one about me and Voldemort, and Snape overheard it and told Voldemort about it…" Harry's voice was starting to crack. "But after, you know, Voldemort started hunting down my mum he joined the Order as a spy."

Dumbledore didn't say anything for a moment, and though he was very good at hiding his emotions, Harry could tell that he was horrified.

"You mentioned something about Horcruxes. How did you find out about those? They are a banned subject at Hogwarts, Harry."

"Voldemort made them. You gave me the job of hunting them down. You didn't tell me your theories about them until my sixth year here… Not until after you told me about the prophecy at the end of my fifth year, after Sirius…" Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"Sirius?" asked Dumbledore. "Sirius who?"

"Sirius Black. You know, my godfather. He died at the end of my fifth year.." Harry felt tears falling down his face and his voice was oddly high. Then, Harry remembered that Sirius, the man he never met yet still cared deeply for, was in Azkaban, very much alive.

"Wait! No, Sirius is still alive! Dumbledore, you have to listen, Sirius is innocent! Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, not Sirius, they switched without telling anyone, then Peter faked his own death! He was a rat animagus, see… Professor, you have to do something! Sirius is in prison –"

"Harry," said Dumbledore, holding up his hand to motion Harry to stop talking. "Please calm down, or I'll have to give you a calming draught."

Harry shut his mouth. He suddenly became aware of how fast he was breathing.

"But sir, please, we have to do something… He's innocent..." Harry's voice cracked, and he wiped his tears on his sleeve.

They both sat in silence for several minutes, the only sounds being the occasional sniffle coming from Harry. Dumbledore was first to break the silence.

"Harry, I need to know everything you saw."

Harry knew that he would ask that.

"I don't… It's… I don't know if I can…"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, "it's crucial that I know what you saw. Or else, how will we know how to continue? It was very mature of you to come to me for help, but in order for me to do so I need to know the events of that dream."

"I just, it's… It's really long, it would take me hours to explain it. And I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it out loud yet. I just didn't know what else to do."

"It would be better to talk about it now than later, Harry, the longer you wait, the more painful it becomes, and the less we can do."

"Maybe, maybe we can use your Pensieve?"

Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, as though about to ask Harry how he knew about the the Pensieve, but quickly faded and he nodded.

"I suppose that may be the best route, considering how long and complicated the dream must be…"

Dumbledore walked over to the cabinet where his Pensieve was, took it out, and carried it to his desk.

"Do you know how to extract memories?"

"No, sir."

"Alright then. First, bring the memory to the forefront of your mind. Make sure you are thinking only of the dream, and _only _of the dream – you don't want to accidently put in any memories that you don't want me to see. Are you thinking of the dream?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then, grab your wand and put it to your temple – yes, like that – imagine pulling out the memory with your wand."

Harry closed his eyes and did as he was told. As he pulled his wand away from his head, he felt a slight tickle, and then a rush of relief, as though a large boulder was released from his head. He opened his eyes to see a streak of silver dangling from the end of his wand, not quite liquid, not quite gas.

"Very good, Harry. I'm impressed that you succeeded on the first try."

"I've seen you do it loads of times in the dream, sir, so I think I was just able to visualize it better."

"Of course. Now, will you please place the memory in the Pensieve?"

Harry got out of his chair and tapped his wand on the edge of the basin and let the silver stuff fall off from the end of his wand and into the Pensieve. The silver mist started to swirl. Dumbledore sighed.

"Well Harry, I think you ought to go to bed for tonight. It's getting late."

* * *

Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Caput Draconis," he said to the Fat Lady as he reached the entrance.

"Why are you back so late? Why weren't you with the other first years?" said the Fat Lady.

"I was speaking to Dumbledore."

"Oh really?"

"_Caput Draconis._"

"What's the real reason you are back so late? People went out looking for you!"

"_I was talking to Dumbledore!_ Now let me in!"

"_Fine!_" and the portrait opened. But just as Harry tried to walk through the hole, a sharp voice came from behind.

"Potter!" Harry turned around. Professor McGonagall was walking toward him, emerald robes flowing behind, her mouth the thinnest of lines.

"Why were you not with the other first years? I have been looking all over for you, I was just about to get the other Professors to come and help me! And on the first night…"

"I'm really sorry Professor… I was talking to Professor Dumbledore… I should have told Percy…"

McGonagall gave him a look of disbelief.

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"_Yes."_

"What were you discussing?"

"I… um… nothing…"

"Hmm. Well I suppose you wouldn't mind then if I asked Professor Dumbledore about it?"

"Not at all."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"Right then… I'll ask him tonight."

"Yes, Professor."

"Why did you not tell a prefect where you were going so that we wouldn't have to go on a wild goose chase?"

"I, uh, forgot. Sorry," Harry said sheepishly.

Professor McGonagall looked annoyed, but then her eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"How did you know where Gryffindor Tower was if you were in Professor Dumbledore's office and not with the other first years?"

"Um…"

"And how did you find out where Professor Dumbledore's office was?"

"Uh…"

"Oh, nevermind... I don't think I want to know... Well, I'll show you to your dormitory."

McGonagall introduced Harry to the Common Room and showed him to his dorm. Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were still awake.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "Where'd you go? We were worried."

"Oh, I was just talking to Dumbledore..."

Ron's eyes widened. "Really? Why?"

"Oh, nothing..."

When Harry went to bed that night, he was thankful that the dream wasn't in the forefront of his mind, but safe in Dumbledore's Pensieve, so he likely wouldn't have any nightmares about it tonight.

* * *

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

The whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day to walk down to breakfast with Ron. He sat down next to Ron and his other dorm mates. Halfway through breakfast, McGonagall came around with schedules.

"Here you are, Potter. And I spoke to Professor Dumbledore last night. There will be no punishment."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Also, he asked me to give you this."

She handed him a scroll, and Harry looked up to the High Table. Dumbledore looked unusually tired and grave. At once, Harry realized that he must have watched the memory last night.

"Er, thanks."

Professor McGonagall gave him a calculating look before nodding curtly and moving on.

"What's the letter say, Harry?"

"Blimey, Dumbledore writing to you on the first day? Well, I guess you are Harry Potter after all..." said Ron.

"I guess so," was all Harry could say. He wasn't going to open the letter at the table with Ron hovering over him, so he quick rushed to the bathroom alone before his first class and read it in an empty stall.

_Dear Harry,_

_I would like to speak with you today. Kindly come to my office at 8 p.m. I hope you enjoy your first day of school._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I enjoy Licorice Wands._

Harry was extremely nervous about talking to Dumbledore again. Although this meeting is a good thing, as it meant that Dumbledore believed him and was taking the steps necessary to plan things out, it could very well be his entire future planned out. And _that _was a lot for an eleven year-old to handle. Nevertheless, he quickly put it to the back of his mind and headed to his first class.

Harry got through his first day of classes alright; he remembered a lot of the things they were learning in class from his dream, even if he couldn't remember everything perfectly since the dream wasn't shadowing his mind anymore. That doesn't mean he was able to do everything on the first try, but he was able to catch on more quickly than the others because he was better able to visualize himself doing the spells. Professor McGonagall was especially impressed when by the end of class, Harry was finally able to successfully turn his matchstick into solid metal. It wasn't shaped perfectly, but she still gave him two points and a rare smile. A curious one, at that- but still a smile.

"Excellent work, Potter! Two points to Gryffindor. Your father was rather gifted in Transfiguration, too."

The comment on his father made him glow with pride inside. He already knew that his father was talented, but just to hear people talk about his parents made him smile.

After he had finished his last class, he went back to the common room to do his homework, and at 8 p.m., made his way to Dumbledore's office.

"Licorice Wand," said Harry, as he reached the stone gargoyle. It leaped aside and Harry went up the spiral staircase and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Dumbledore.

Harry walked in and Dumbledore told him to sit down. He looked very tired, as if he had stayed up all night. The lines on his face looked deeper, making him look a lot older than usual.

"Well, Harry. I watched the memory last night."

Harry just stared at Dumbledore, and didn't say anything.

"And I must agree with you that certain things ought to be changed now. But, they must not be fixed without careful thought."

"Like what?"

I think that we ought to free your godfather and destroy some Horcruxes, don't you?"

Harry was not expecting for Dumbledore to be so straightforward, but agreed nonetheless. "Yes, yes of course sir."

"But, it will take a lot of extremely careful planning. We mustn't change too much right now, or else the future will become too unpredictable to prevent the more horrible things from happening. Though, a head start is very useful."

Harry was following so far.

"But..."

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"But, like I said, the future can change unpredictably, which is why it's crucial; that we create a strict plan.

"For instance, if we prove Sirius' innocence by catching Peter Pettigrew, who will be there to use your blood in building Voldemort's new body? And if your blood isn't used, how will your mothers sacrifice protect you if you fulfill the prophecy after you come of age?

"If we prevent the Chamber of Secrets from opening, how will you destroy Tom Riddle's diary? How will you get the sword of Godric Gryffindor with the basilisk venom on it that proved to be so useful in destroying Horcruxes? Those are things that need to be considered."

Harry was horrified. He spoke up, eyes wide and in a trembling voice, "So, you're saying that those things have to happen? That boy has to die, Ron's sister has to get possessed–"

"No, I am not," interrupted Dumbledore. "I am saying that there are things that we have to work around, changes that need to be considered with extreme care.

"For the moment, the most we can do about the Horcruxes is destroy the five that we can: Hufflepuff's Cup, the Diadem of Ravenclaw, Slytherin's Locket, the Ring, and the Diary. The Diadem should be very easily obtained, considering that it is in the castle at this very moment. The Diary, the Ring, and the Locket will be a little more difficult, considering that they are on different properties. Hufflepuff's Cup will obviously be the most difficult since it is in the Lestrange's vault at Gringotts.

"As for you and Nagini, Nagini hasn't been made a Horcrux yet, and therefore cannot be destroyed. And the Horcrux in you cannot be destroyed until the right time, as you already know.

"If the first five are destroyed early, that makes your job much easier later on. Then, should Voldemort return, and should he use your blood to do it, he will be able to destroy the Horcrux in you."

"So... I have to let him return? He has to use my blood? That other boy has to die?"

Dumbledore sighed. "No, it is not my intention to allow harm to come upon any of my students, and do not suggest that I would ever intentionally do so. Hopefully, we can prevent his return altogether. If we can prevent his return altogether, then the last Horcrux will die with you. Then, Voldemort's soul would have no Horcruxes tying it to earth, and he will never be able to regain a body."

"How would we do that?"

"By proving Sirius innocent, and capturing the wizard responsible for his return, that would hopefully delay or stop his return altogether. We would also put Barty Crouch Jr. back in Azkaban."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced; a lot could still go wrong. Dumbledore seemed to have read his mind.

"The future is extremely delicate and difficult to work with," said Dumbledore quietly, "A lot can, and will– should it have the chance– go wrong or become too unpredictable. That is why it is essential that we stick to a strict plan. Every move we make must be made for a specific reason. This is where you come in. I want you to do the same things that you did in your dream. Don't change big events without telling me, because it could have a greater affect than you can possibly imagine."

Dumbledore sighed, looking more weary than ever. "It is a huge burden to place on someone... Especially on someone as young as you are. I never imagined that you would learn of your role in Voldemort's destruction so early in your childhood. But, I know that you are capable– if you are the same brave young man that I saw in the Pensieve. I am asking you to use every ounce of cunning you possess, and to have trust in me."

Harry nodded, and then another question came to mind.

"Sir?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Where do you think the dream came from?"

"Ah... Of that, I cannot be sure. I'm assuming that it may be something like a prophecy– though much more vivid, of course. I am fairly sure, though, that the dream was what would have happened, had you not have been given any foresight. The opposite of a prophecy, in a way – as prophecies need a listener to follow them to come true – your dream, on the other hand, had listeners (you and I), but will do everything in our power to prevent certain events from happening."

Harry just sat there, trying to take it all in. It was quite confusing.

"Well Harry, I believe you need your memory back."

Dumbledore walked over to the cabinet where the Pensieve was kept, pulled out a phial from one of the shelves, and handed it to Harry.

"There are many ways to put it back in, but in your case it would be best for you to just drink it."

Harry stared at the phial in his hand.

"Do I have to?... Sir?" he hastily added, worried he sounded impolite.

Dumbledore looked apologetic. "I'm afraid so... I'm sorry, Harry. But this is _extremely _vital information. It cannot be left in a phial on my shelf... and it should be in your head to guide you."

Harry was not looking forward to putting the memory back in his head, but didn't argue.

"Can I tell Ron and Hermione?"

"No, you may not."

"But... Sir... You saw, they were trustworthy..."

"Yes, they were. They were extremely trustworthy, loyal, and brave friends."

"So why can't I tell them–"

"Because they are not yet the friends you know them to become," interrupted Dumbledore. "As of now, they are two eleven-year olds that you have just met yesterday. If you were to tell them now, it would scare them away. You must build your friendship first."

Harry looked down at his lap, and said in a quiet voice, "But, I feel like... I feel like I'm _manipulating_ them or something if I do that..."

"Harry, look at me."

Harry did as he was told, and looked up at Dumbledore's face.

"You are not manipulating them by wanting to become their friend. You want to be friends with them for the sole reason of being friends, not so you can use them. They would have become your friends and helped you even if you didn't have the foresight. You did not cause the dream. It is not your fault. You are not manipulating them. You want to be their friend, and they want to be yours."

Harry nodded, then sat there in silence for a few moments.

"One more thing," said Dumbledore, "I believe I have something of yours."

Dumbledore got up, and walked over to another cabinet behind his desk. With a wave of his wand, the cabinet opened, revealing the Invisibility Cloak. He took the cloak in his hand and walked over to hand it to Harry.

"A Very Merry, er– _Early_ Christmas to you," said Dumbledore with a smile.

Harry held the cloak in his hands and examined it. "Thank you sir," said Harry.

"Use it well, Harry. Do try not to break too many school rules."

"Yes sir," said Harry sheepishly.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "I think we should leave it there for tonight, it's almost curfew, and you need some rest for classes tomorrow."

"Yes sir." Harry stood up to leave. Then, another question popped into his mind.

"Oh, one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"Er, yes, I think so... This is kind of a weird question, but you said not to change anything without your permission, so I'll just ask...

"Well, may I do better in school than I did in my dream? Work harder, learn more spells on my own to help me, er, train I guess... Be nicer to Snape..."

"_Professor _Snape, Harry," corrected Dumbledore, but behind his beard was a wide smile. "And yes, of course you may. It always helps to be prepared, but do not overwork yourself. Well, goodnight Harry– I will contact you soon with plans to get your godfather out of Azkaban. And remember my warning."

"Yes, sir. Goodnight sir." Harry turned to leave.

"And–"

Harry looked back. Dumbledore quietly said,

"Good luck."


	4. Pomfrey, Potions, and a Plan

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, J.K. ROWLING DOES.**

Long time, no see! Sorry about how slow I am at writing... I've been busy with school (second semester of Junior year. Yay.) Also, if you have the time, please,_ please, __**please **_review! I'm completely new to writing fanfiction, and any critiques, suggestions or ideas for the story are very welcome and extremely appreciated! Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

* * *

Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower alone. He went straight up to bed, exhausted and confused after his talk with Dumbledore. After he got settled into bed, he took the vial out of his pocket and drowned it. As the memories suddenly flowed into the forefront of his mind once more, he immediately felt sick and weighed down. His head started to ache, so he rested it on his pillow and soon fell asleep.

_He was in his bedroom at the Dursley's. Aunt Petunia burst open the door and started yelling at him for not buying Dudley the four unicorns he had asked for for his two month post-birthday present. Harry told her that he couldn't fit four unicorns in his trunk, and that this argument is ridiculous because he had only gone back to their house for one reason: to find the buried treasure under the house so he could bring it back to Dumbledore in order to save the land of the Pixies in Norway. He walked down to the basement to grab the treasure, but instead of stepping down into the basement, he found himself at Hogwarts._

_There were people everywhere fighting, curses flying, rubble littered the ground. He pulled out his wand and started shooting hexes alongside an older Percy._

_"Hello, Minister!" bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"_

_"You actually are joking, Perce… I don't think I've heard you joking since you were–"_

_The air exploded, and Fred was on the ground, eyes unseeing._

"Harry… HARRY!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was drenched in cold sweat; his blanket tangled all around him. His heart was pounding in his head, and his lungs just couldn't seem to get enough air. He knew he had been just dreaming… That wouldn't actually happen, he would make sure of it… There was nothing to worry about… But that didn't seem to help him calm down...

"Harry, are you okay? Harry…"

A blurry Ron was hovering over him speaking. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were at the foot of his bed, looking frightened.

"Should… should we g-get s-s-someone? asked Neville.

"I'll go get McGonagall…" said Seamus, running out of the room. Harry tried to get out of bed, but Ron and Dean held him down.

"No Harry, I-I think you should lie down…" stuttered Ron.

After a long time, or maybe no time at all, McGonagall rushed in the dorm with Seamus in tow.

"What is it, Potter? What's wrong?"

"Nothing… Nothing's wrong, I'm fine…" Harry slurred.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're ill. Can you sit up?" said McGonagall.

"He had a really bad nightmare or something… He was tossing and turning and yelling…" said Neville, looking very white.

"I'm _fine,_ honestly… fine…" said Harry, though feeling the exact opposite.

"Put on your dressing gown, Potter, I'm taking you to the infirmary." said McGonagall sternly.

"NO… I really don't… I'm fine…"

"Put on your dressing gown. Can you stand up?"

Harry got up, and his head spanned. He felt McGonagall's hand grab his elbow to steady him.

As they walked through the corridors to the Hospital Wing, McGonagall kept a firm grip on his arm. Harry wasn't complaining, though– he felt as though he would collapse at any second.

He couldn't take his mind off all the pain, all the deaths… And the fact that it could all possibly happen was only making him feel sicker… He didn't think he would be able to handle it...

The more and more he thought about it, the weaker he felt… He started to panic, he couldn't breathe, his heart started pounding… His vision started to blur even more, his body felt heavy, he started to fall, something caught him before he hit the ground…

And everything went black.

* * *

Harry was lying on something soft. A bed. He didn't care where, though. He felt calm, more calm then he ever had before, like nothing would ever go wrong again.

He slowly opened his eyes and blinked. Everything around him was a bright white.

A few moments later, he heard the sound of a door and footsteps. A woman came into his view. Madam Pomfrey.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. I am Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse– you are in the hospital wing. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling great at the moment," said Harry and Madam Pomfrey checked his pulse.

"That would be because of the potions I gave you. Oh good, your heart rate is normal now…"

"What time is it?" asked Harry, as she continued giving him a check–up.

"Nine thirty. You may go to class after lunch."

"Oh, and Dumbledore dropped by to visit while you were sleeping– he asked me to give you this," Madam Pomfrey pulled out a scroll from one of her pockets and handed it to Harry.

"Now, get some rest."

* * *

After the calming potions wore off and he finished lunch in the hospital wing, Harry headed down to the Greenhouses for Herbology.

"Harry… Are you alright? That was scary last night…" asked Ron.

"Yes, I'm fine… Just a nightmare..." said Harry. He started to realize that if he kept on acting suspicious–having nightmares and meetings with Dumbledore– he could scare Ron away. He would have to start behaving more, well, _normal._

"Hey Ron, wanna be in the same work group today? Oh, and Hagrid invited me over to his hut on Friday afternoon..."

* * *

At eight o'clock that evening, Harry told Ron that he was going to the library, but instead he made his way to Dumbledore's office, just like the note from Madame Pomfrey told him to. He reached the gargoyle and said the password, walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Come in. Ah, Harry– sit down. How are you after last night?"

"Oh, fine sir… I just put the memory back in right before I went to bed. I probably should have waited until morning…"

"Do you think that you will need anything to stop the dreams? Madame Pomfrey has potions for students who get nightmares."

"No sir, I think I'm fine. I'll just need to remember to clear my mind before bed."

Dumbledore looked at Harry carefully.

"Alright. We will try that for tonight. But Harry, if they don't stop, you should talk to Madame Pomfrey. It isn't healthy to wake up from nightmares every night."

"Yes sir," said Harry. He was rather embarrassed to talk to Professor Dumbledore about something as childish as _nightmares._

"Now," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together, "We needed a plan to get Sirius out of Azkaban, correct? Well, I believe that I made one that may work. In order to get Sirius out of Azkaban, we need to first clear him of charges– which means we have to first catch Peter Pettigrew. But we cannot simply grab Scabbers and send him to the ministry, questions will be asked about how he was discovered.

"I am asking you, Harry- to help arouse suspicion around the rat, so that Mr. Ronald Weasley will want to come to a teacher on his own to report Pettigrew."

Harry was lost. "How… how would I do that, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I assume you know who is in possession of the, what was it called? Marauder's Map?"

Harry's eyes widened. Of course!

"That is just one of my missions for you. The second one is for you to find the Diadem of Ravenclaw, and bring it back to me. You should have an easier time finding it than I."

"Yes, sir. And what about Barty Crouch Jr.? And Quirrell?" Harry was especially concerned about Quirrell, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to concentrate in class with him teaching.

"Barty Crouch Jr. will be sent back to Azkaban as soon as possible, I assure you. The ministry conducts raids, as you know. I shall send an anonymous tip-off.

"And as for Quirrell… I do not intend to put you in harms way, Harry. I will make sure that Quirrell does not get the stone. For now, I think the best we can do is wait. It is the only thing we can do for now, as we cannot raise suspicion. I daresay the time to take action will reveal itself eventually.

"And lastly, Harry, you must understand that you having this foreknowledge is useful, but extremely, extremely dangerous. I don't want to put too much pressure on you, Harry, but should Quirrell gain any idea that you know any of Voldemort's secrets, things will go downhill, fast. Voldemort cannot enter your mind without either of you feeling pain, and Quirrell does not want to enter your mind either– as he does not wish to raise _your_ suspicion. But all the same, I wish for you to practice clearing your mind. Before bed, before Defense class… and before Potions class as well. There is no need for private occlumency lessons just yet, but I would like for you to try as hard as you can, do you understand?"

"Yes sir," said Harry. He remembered what happened in his fifth year in the dream, and would try as hard as he could to not make the mistake of not practicing.

"Thank you, Harry. I can't tell you how remarkably you are handling this most extraordinary situation."

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore looked over him carefully.

"Well, I think that's enough for tonight."

* * *

Harry was a bit more reassured after the latest meeting with Dumbledore, comforted by the fact that there was at least a rough plan. He had also retrieved the Diadem and given it to Dumbledore. The only problem was that he was having trouble thinking of ways to talk to Fred and George about the map.

On Friday, Harry had his first Potions lesson with the Slytherins. He was half dreading it, because he knew how miserable potions could be– but half excited. Mostly excited to be able to answer all of the questions right and brew perfect first-year potions.

Snape paused at Harry's name during roll call, just as he did in the dream. And when he finished his little speech about the "subtle science and exact art of potion making," Snape suddenly said,

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

This was Harry's chance. He had to answer the questions correctly without sounding arrogant in order to get Snape on his side and make potions more bearable...

Harry started to speak in a small voice, "That would make the Draught of Living Death, sir."

"Will you tell me what the Draught of Living Death _is,_ Potter?"

"It's the strongest sleeping potion there is, sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Now, let's see if you can answer a second question, or if the first one was just dumb luck. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Um… the stomach of a goat, sir."

"Once again, Potter, what _is _a bezoar?"

"It's like a stone, sir. It will work as an antidote to most poisons, sir."

His eyebrows furrowed even further. "Last question, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, sir. It can also be called aconite, sir."

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

For the rest of the hour, Snape hovered over him, examining him working on the potion they were brewing. Harry made sure to tell Neville to add the quills to his potion, so that Snape couldn't dock off points for that this time, either.

Harry left the classroom without Snape saying another word to him.


	5. Back to Azkaban

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, J.K. ROWLING DOES.**

* * *

**BARTEMIUS CROUCH Jr. FOUND ALIVE! **by Rita Skeeter

Bartemius Crouch Jr., son of Bartemius Crouch Sr. and one of the  
Death Eaters responsible for the torture of Frank and Alice  
Longbottom, was found in the Crouch home yesterday morning,  
very much alive.  
Bartemius Crouch Jr. was one of the four torturers responsible  
for the attack on the famous aurors, Frank and Alice Longbottom  
in 1982. Crouch was given a life long sentence to Azkaban prison,  
where he supposedly died a little over a year later. This was found  
not to be true, as he was found in his home, under the influence  
of the Imperius curse, after receiving an anonymous tip–off.  
After being interrogated under veritaserum, it was found that  
Crouch had escaped Azkaban after a visit from his mother and  
father. During the visit, his mother used polyjuice potion to disguise  
herself as her son. She then was able to stay in the prison cell,  
allowing Crouch to escape. Bartemius Crouch Jr. has been sent  
back to Azkaban, and his father, Bartemius Crouch Sr., has  
been accused of helping him escape Azkaban. Bartemius Crouch  
Sr.'s trial will take place tomorrow morning.  
_Story continued on page 4_

* * *

The news of Bartemius Crouch Jr.'s escape from Azkaban had come out the next week, and hit the wizarding world by storm. People were amazed as well as frightened that someone could fake their own death and escape Azkaban right under the nose of the ministry. Bartemius Crouch Sr. had been sent to Azkaban after his trial, and Harry felt more reassured that Voldemort would not be resurrected.

Neville, on the other hand, looked quite sick after hearing the news that his parent's torturer had escaped. To make it worse, people were starting to stare at him in the hallways after the news about his parents became more well known. Harry tried to comfort him, and eventually people stopped staring, and Neville was back to normal.

Harry had also gotten his place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He felt bad that Neville had to break his wrist, he really did– but he needed a spot on the team. Being on the team also gave him more chances to talk to Fred and George. As it was getting harder and harder to sleep every night knowing Peter Pettigrew was still free, he decided to finally ask the twins about the map one day after practice.

"Hey Harry," said Fred, "How do you like Quidditch so far?"

"I love it! Though I kind of nervous about it... I don't know if I'm good enough yet..."

"Nonsense!" said George. "You're bloody amazing! It's in your blood, too."

"Oh yeah!" said Harry, "Professor McGonagall said that my father played Quidditch... She said that he used to be quite the prankster, too." Of course, McGonagall hadn't said that, but he needed to change the subject to his father.l

"Really?" said Fred, looking interested. "What kind of stuff did he used to do?"

"I don't know, really, McGonagall said she didn't want to give me any ideas. But she did say that him and his friends used to call themselves the Marauders. Had nicknames and everything."

"Wait– did you say they called themselves the Marauders?" piped Fred.

"What kind of Nicknames?" asked George.

"Yup– the Marauders. Pretty cool, huh? There were four of them. They called themselves Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs– my dad was Prongs."

Fred and George looked at him with awe. They looked at each other, and then Fred said,

"Alright, Harry– come with us."

"But why?" asked Harry, trying to sound oblivious.

"Just come– we wanna show you something" said George.

They pulled Harry into the castle and into a deserted classroom. George pulled out the precious piece of parchment from his pocket.

"Okay, normally we would never show anyone..."

"But since you're the son of one of the makers, we feel that you have the right to know."

"Know about what?" asked Harry.

"The Marauder's Map!" chorused the twins.

* * *

Harry had received the map from Fred and George, on the condition that he would let them use it whenever they asked. Harry decided it would be best to raise suspicion around the twins first, and guide them towards the right direction to taking care of it. So, on a Thursday night in late September, when everyone had went up to the dormitory, Harry told Fred and George to stay behind to talk to them in private.

"I want to show you both something I saw on the map– it's really odd."

Harry opened the map, given the password, and quickly scanned it for Peter Pettigrew. And sure enough, he was asleep in the first year boy's dorm.

"There! Look at that– who's Peter Pettigrew? I the only first year Gryffindor boys are me, Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus."

Fred and George looked at the map with confusion.

"That's odd..." said George.

"Could it be a ghost, you think? I've never heard of him," said Fred.

"No, no... He's not a ghost. I've seen him on the map alongside Ron a lot, actually. I think that it might be Scabbers."

"Scabbers? Scabbers is a rat, Harry– he wouldn't show up on the map. And Scabbers' name is _Scabbers,_ not Peter Pettigrew," said Fred.

"Yes, I know. I've been thinking that maybe Scabbers isn't really the stupid rat we thought he was... I mean, how old is he? Rats don't live very long, usually..."

George's eyed widened. "You don't think that Scabbers is a person, surely?"

"But what about that Crouch guy! People do creepy stuff like that and hide all the time," said Fred.

"Well, who is this Peter Pettigrew guy?" asked George.

"That's the thing– I did some research in the library. Finally, I looked at some old criminal cases, and I found that Peter Pettigrew is dead. He was murdered."

"Well, then he must be a ghost then! If he's dead, then he can't be disguised as Scabbers, right?" said Fred.

Harry was starting to get frustrated. Convincing the twins that Scabbers was really a criminal animagus who faked his own death to escape Azkaban was harder than he thought.

"_No, _it isn't a ghost. I asked some other ghosts if there was a ghost here named Peter Pettigrew. And there isn't."

Fred and George still looked unconvinced.

"And also– I mean, with that other guy who broke out of Azkaban– I guess I'm just worried. Everyone thought that he was dead too, and... well, what if this Pettigrew guy is dangerous?" said Harry.

Fred and George looked at each other worriedly, and Fred said,

"Alright, alright. We'll take him to McGonagall tomorrow. But we won't tell her about the map, okay? We'll just say that he's been acting, er– suspicious..."

"No, she'll never believe you. Hmm... I don't know what to do..."

They stood in silence for a couple of seconds, thinking about what to do.

"Well, the only evidence we have that Scabbers isn't really a rat other than the map is the fact that he's lived for so long..." said Fred.

"Maybe, well– is there a way to tell if an animal isn't really an animal?" asked George.

"Well, there's a spell that can force an animals back into their human form, I just don't know what it is, though," said Harry.

"Maybe we can try that on him? I mean, we'll have to ask McGonagall about it... We have her in transfiguration tomorrow, let's ask her about it then," offered George.

* * *

The next day, Harry went to his classes as normal. It was a Friday, and therefore meant he had double potions with the Slytherins.

Harry was trying to be nice to Snape. He was respectful, always did the best he could in class. Sometimes, Harry would stay after class to help clean, or to ask questions and act genuinely interested in potions. Snape, though still not treating Harry _nicely, _per say– could at least hold a conversation with Harry without comparing him to his father.

"Erm... Professor?"

"What, Potter?" snapped Snape.

"I wanted to ask if you if there were any good books in the library on potions."

Snape looked up at Harry and stared. "Why are you interested? Not going to cause more trouble, are you?"

"No, sir... I'm just interested in potions. It my favorite subject..." Harry might have exaggerated there, but he had to get on Snape's good side.

Snape looked suspicious. "Oh really? Why is that?"

"I just think it's cool," said Harry, not able to think of anything else to say.

Suddenly, Harry had an idea. He had no idea what possessed him to do it, because he knew that Snape would get angry with him. "I guess I'm also interested in it because someone told me that my mother had talent in it."

Snape looked away from Harry at that moment to look at papers, and didn't say anything.

"Did you know her at all? I'm just curious to know what she was like–"

"No. No I didn't. Potter, if you want to know more about potions, just go to the library and look at the books, don't ask me, I don't know what books they have now."

Harry took this as a dismissal.

"Alright, sorry to bother you. Thank you sir, see you next week."

Harry trudged back to Gryffindor tower alone. Hagrid had invited him and Ron to his hut again, and Harry said he would meet Ron there and then walk down. But when Harry entered the Gryffindor tower, however– he saw quite a scene in front of him.

Ron, Fred, and George where in the middle of the common room, fighting. A few people were even staring. Ron had Scabbers clutched in his hand, and Fred was trying to grab him.

"Leave Scabbers alone!" yelled Ron.

"Just let me see him! I want to try something!" yelled Fred.

"No! You'll hurt him!" Ron screamed. At that moment, Scabbers had left Ron's grip and was running toward the dorms, but George lunged at him and caught him.

"I got him! Fred, what did McGonagall say to do?"

The next moment, there was a loud bang; and a short, fat man stood in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. Several people screamed and started to run away, but Harry quickly grabbed his wand and pointed it at Pettigrew.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Pettigrew became stiff as a board and fell forwards, straight on his stomach. Everyone stopped and stared.

"I'm gonna go get someone..." said a fourth year girl. She ran out the portrait hole.

Everyone in the common room was silent and backed up against the wall. A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall came rushing in.

"What on earth–"

She walked over to Pettigrew and knelt down. She used her wand to turn him over and gasped.

"Oh my– no, it can't be..."

She collected herself, stood up, and with a wave of her wand two silver cats pranced their way out of the room.

"Everyone, back up... Now, what on earth happened?"

Ron looked sick. "Scabbers..."

"Scabbers? Your rat, Weasley?"

Fred hastily tried to explain. "We were just practicing the spell you gave us, Professor! We didn't know that the rat was really an animagus, honest–"

Fred was interrupted by the opening of the portrait hole. Professors Dumbledore and Snape came rushing in. Snape looked over at Pettigrew and a sneer appeared on his face.

"What is going on here?" Snape snarled at Harry and the Weasleys.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked calm as ever. "Minerva, message all of the staff and tell them to keep the students in their respective dormitories. Contact the ministry as well, tell them to bring aurors. Severus, please stay here and watch over Pettigrew. Students, please go down to the Great Hall and wait there. Misters Fred, George, and Ron Weasley please come with me to my office."

As Harry began to leave with the other students, he could have sworn he saw Dumbledore wink at him.

A few minutes after Harry and the other students arrived in the Great Hall, Hermione came running in.

"Harry! What happened? I was in the library trying to find some good books to help me in charms– then Madam Pince told me to come here. She didn't give me a reason, though! Do you know anything?" Hermione said.

"Er, yeah– um, you know Ron's rat, Scabbers? He turned into a human. Everyone freaked out, Dumbledore and Snape and McGonagall came and everything– and then we were sent here. Dumbledore took Fred and George and Ron, though."

"What? What do you mean the rat turned into a human? That's impossible, Harry– I've read just about every transfiguration book in the library– you can't transfigure an animal into a human..."

"I don't think the rat was transfigured into a human, I think the human had been turned into a rat. Anyway, I don't really know much about it, just what I saw."

Hermione looked completely baffled, and was about to ask more questions when Percy walked in, looking important.

"Alright, quiet! Quiet everyone!

"Now. I have just been told that we will only have to wait in here for another few minutes– they are currently getting the intruder out of the castle. Once they have done that, Professor McGonagall will come and escort us back to Gryffindor tower."

There was a roar of voices coming from the students, wanting to know exactly who the man was and how he got into the tower.

"Quiet, quiet! I don't know anything about who the intruder was or what he was doing, all I know is that they are taking him to the ministry. i'm sure that we will learn more soon enough." yelled Percy.

* * *

The next day, many different rumors had spread around the entire school around what had happened. Susan Bones was running around telling people that an evil man had come into the Gryffindor common room via the Floo and immediately tried to strangle Ron.

Ron came down breakfast the morning after the incident looking as though he hadn't slept at all.

"Hey Ron– are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Scabbers was a man the whole time!" Ron moaned. "I let him sleep in my bed! I had _changed clothes _in front of him, I–"

"We don't need the details, Ron, we get it," said George, looking equally as tired.

"I just can't believe that I never noticed anything before!" said Percy. "I should have been able to recognize the signs. He lived much longer than any rat should, he showed very un–ratlike behavior at times, he–"

"Don't beat yourself up, Perce. It's not your fault. Not even Mum or Dad noticed anything," said Fred.

"What happened last night, exactly? What did you talk to Dumbledore about?" asked Harry.

"Well," said George soberly, "he just asked us a few questions about Scabbers. How long he's lived, what happened to make him turn into a human, stuff like that."

"But then someone from the ministry came in and told Dumbledore that it was safe to move us all back to the tower, so he let us leave," said Fred.

Ron was silent through the whole conversation. He seemed to be taking it pretty hard.

"Hey Ron, cheer up. At least he was caught before he hurt anyone, or worse," Harry tried.

"I guess," said Ron, pushing his breakfast around with his fork.

* * *

**PETER PETTIRGREW ALIVE! **by Rita Skeeter

Just after we found out the truth about Bartemius Crouch Jr.'s death,  
a second man who was claimed dead has been found. Peter Pettigrew  
along with 12 muggles were supposedly murdered by the infamous  
Sirius Black on November 1st, 1981 following the fall of  
He–Who–Must–Not–Be–Named. Pettigrew, however, was found alive  
at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on Friday, September  
20th. He was an unregistered animagus, and disguised himself as  
a rat and was even a pet to one of the students. Headmaster  
Albus Dumbledore has declined comment as to how the supposedly  
"safe" school was not able to catch the intruder.  
Peter Pettigrew's faked death raises some serious– or should I say  
_sirius– _questions about the accusations placed on the famed mass  
murderer, Sirius Black. _See more on page 6._

* * *

Welp, that's it for Chapter 5! Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for how slow this is coming along... But, at least it's finally summer! Hopefully I will be updating more often.

Thank you everyone for all of the reviews! Keep it up, I love reading them!

Feel free to message me with any questions and what–not.

See ya next chapter!


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